


The Resonance of Heart and Mind

by CeladonWanderer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Beta Read, Bisexual Sword Wife and Equally Bisexual Claw Wife, Closure, F/F, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, I Promise There Will Also Be Vow Renewal, Nepeta and Terezi go Ultimate Self, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Character Tags To Be Added As They Show Themselves, Revenge!, SO MUCH REVENGE HAHAHAHAHA, Same With The Ship Tags, Slow Burn, So much revenge!, This One's For Clown Gang. Love You Guys, Ultimate Selves, YES I will Include Rosemary. Once we get the Nepped Rezis started that is., Yes They Will Get Married I Love Weddings So Much, and they have fun, nyanbinary nepeta (she’s a demigirl)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeladonWanderer/pseuds/CeladonWanderer
Summary: To make a being, you need two main things:A Heart, a soul, to fuel the perception of self and one's relations with others, to feel and to perceive. A sense of intuition, emotions, compassion, and lack thereof.A Mind, a neural complex, to see the logical conclusion, to parse out, to know and to deduce, to analyze other people. A sense of logic, reasoning, thoughts, and anxiety.Terezi Pyrope, Seer of Mind, knows this well as she turns her ship sideways to start on a journey not defined by a narrative that hates its characters, but a narrative all her and her matesprit's own.With bonus Rosemary and absolutely zero meta bullshit, one hundred percent guaranteed.
Relationships: Nepeta Leijon/Terezi Pyrope, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. So Here's The Deal: You Give Me My Catgirl Girlfriend.

Another headache spears your head. This time, an agonizing array of smells and feelings from the first person, of you smooching a girl with sticky cheeks and a cleft lip on the forehead. Damn headaches and even more visions (for lack of a better term) than usual. Pain in your ass. That’s not even the reason you’re reminiscing on this fine (awful) day (you aren’t actually sure if it even is daytime). No, the true reason is that you’re supposed to be landing a ship. You do not know how to land a ship. The pissboy in the other room assumes much, and he is always wrong. Your headspace is still reeling from the sensation, but you’re not an idiot. You know what this is, and you’re determined not to let it kill or break you as it did for everyone else. There is no time to think about that right now, however. You sniff the labels of the buttons on the panel of the control center that makes up your room. It’s time to learn how to fly a fucking spaceship. ... Should you even be trying to do this while this process is happening to you? You don’t know and don’t care.

You skitter your sensitive fingers across the controls... This brings back the worst memories. When the buttons were not of plastic and metal, but of wood, and the night sky still shone in your eyes. You throw the thought away. Or try to, but screams of laughter and pain still ring in your ears after all these years. Just as you’re pressing a small yellow(?) button tentatively, memories arise. It’s short this time. All you can hear is hearty giggling and the sound of a girl trying to imitate a cat’s meow. The feel of whiskers tickling your skin. This is too much. This is too much!! You snarl and lock your hands around the steering wheel. Yowling and screaming at the top of your lungs, you wrench it to the side. “4444444444444RGGGHHHH!!” Memories you know, memories you don’t know, IT DOESN’T MATTER. YOU ARE TIRED OF BEING ONE OF THE PRINCE’S SEERS! (You voice this last thought as the ship veers around, pulls a hairpin turn, and sets off on a course completely uncharted. God help you. The autopilot, out of sympathy for you, turns on.)

You are Terezi Pyrope. 

You are Rosebot. It is improper to refer to you as “Rose Lalonde”, since “Rose Lalonde” is in stasis in the other room, the one you cannot know or name. You are Rosebot. 

The ship you currently reside in has just rotated sixty-eight point twelve three two degrees to the left. You are thrown to the side and your body sustains damage. What is the navigator doing? What has happened to her? You decide to investigate, moving through the tilted ship as best you can in as timely a manner as you can before your captor slash father slash former friend wakes from his sleep. 

You are Terezi Pyrope, and you hear poorly padded robotic footsteps echoing through the halls. You very quickly come up with a plan as various alternate lives run through your head, which is a mental feat you didn’t know you could accomplish. In other news,   
_**YOU ARE CONSUMED WITH RAGE. THE PRINCE HAS DECEIVED YOU AND THOUGHT YOU WEAK. WHAT A LITTLE BITCH.**_

Rose enters the room. You are ready for her. 

You are Rosebot. You are currently trussed up and gagged as your friend slash hatecrush digs through your guts and disables your communication systems. She finishes and sets you down underneath the control panel. You are quite distressed yet still manage to sit up and cross your legs as befits your personality.

You are Terezi Pyrope. You take a few deep breaths and calm down a tiny bit. Okay. 

Big plan time. Let’s see…Consider your options.   
Cats. Sweet-smelling brine. Teal blood. Leaves in your hand. Bubbles on your skin. What do you want?   
You, you want her. The only one who never hurt you, who you couldn’t save before…  
The mother lioness to your dragon queen. The scratch to your sniff. 

So, how? 

You know that she is the better side of the Heart aspect, not the opposite of your indomitable Mind but the compliment. Her soul was lost in that black hole but where did the black hole lead? Was it to the Furthest Ring? Could you make him steal the lack of her soul back and then what? He’d just twist the narrative on you both and take your Mind and force it to bend to his will, tainting the very air with his creamsicle haze you’ve learned to hate, no matter which front you put up whether it be manic pixie dream girl or detached, crazy old Terezi, same as ever! Haha, she’s so quirky and cool. Look at how well she navigates! Look at how well she acts as a therapist to her cutesie little crushes! Look at how funny she is, licking everything just to see.   
You hate it. You have an idea.   
You will kill him neutrally and then immediately trap him. However, any death of his would be Just. So you will have to convince him to save Rose to even it out. And then the real dance starts. One candy-red heel taps against the floor. 

You are Ultimate Dirk Strider. 

For some reason, your all-consuming powers are failing you today. This is not worrying, because you are a perfect being with perfect emotions who is more perfect than anyone else. This is only half-sarcasm. You roll out of bed, dropping your Bishie Boys© Sir Martinius The Fourth© Extra-Bishie Body Pillow© on to the ground where he belongs. Why is the ship…? 

We’re off-course. This must be remedied. I stride through the halls, perfectly balanced, graceful, and coordinated as any person with an Ultimate Self should be. My beautifully-recreated sandals thump against the ship’s hull as I check in with Rose…who’s offline. She’s never offline. She does not sleep. My feet lift from the floor as I advance forward, sacrificing ironic coolness for speed. “Rose, where are you? What’s going on?” My words are quick, concise, and spoken elegantly. Without her energy fueling me, I can hardly See into the narrative, and I don’t dare touch Terezi after she nearly dismembered me that one day when Rose was just booting up her body. I can only blindly pull at strings, which when you consider it is completely useless. So, I’d better find her and fast. I pull up to the navigation room, shove open the door, and…!

You are Terezi Pyrope, and you tackle your captor, your deceiver, someone you used to trust to the ground.   
“Terezi. Stop playing and get off of me.” You snarl for a second but manage to pull yourself together.  
“WH4T H4PP3N3D TO OUR TR41N1NG TOG3TH3R, D1RK STR1D3R?” …What?  
“I don’t know what you-“  
“WH4T3V3R B3C4M3 OF SWORDF1GHTS 4ND CH33S3BURG3RS, TO SH4R1NG R4R3 CHUCKL3S 1N TH3 GYM.” You press your sword to his neck. Rose sighs around her bonds, which is to say, through her external speakers meant for emulating sound-based human bodily functions.  
“YOU L3T TH1S RU1N YOU, BUT 1’M JUST STRONG3R; 1T’S HOW 1 4M. TH4T’S ON3 OF YOUR B3LOV3D ST4T3M3NTS OF F4CT.”  
He sighs just like his ecto daughter.   
“Is something wrong? You’re not usually like this. I’m very worried about you.”  
“B31NG CR4ZY 4ND BUBBLY 1S NOT 4 P3RSON4L1TY TR41T. 1’M NOT D3V14T1NG FROM MY P3RSON4L1TY. 1’M JUST T1R3D OF YOUR SH1T.”  
You draw just a bit of blood with your sword; its twin waits curled in your tail, an effect of your adult molt. The smell makes you grin, but what really fuels your smirk is how he reacts when he notices Rose. Everything according to plan.  
“SO H3R3’S HOW 1T WORKS. YOU H4V3 TWO CHO1C3S…”


	2. Seers. They're The Goddamn Best And We All Know It.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Developments!   
> The plan is being put into effect and like all plans made by Terezi, it's going great. For now. A superiority complex is hard to beat.

“YOU C4N F1GHT M3 4ND LOS3, W4TCH1NG D3T4CH3DLY 4S 1 B34T TH3 SH1T OUT OF YOU L1K3 4 MOOB34ST 4BOUT TO B3 SL4UGHT3R3D FOR TH3 34RTH D3L1C4CY C4LL3D TH3 SH1SH K3B4B, OR YOU C4N W4LK OV3R TH3R3, UNT1E YOUR PR3C1OUS L1TTL3 PUPP3T, 4ND TURN TH1S SH1P 4ROUND.” The aptly named little bitch scoffs at you for a minute before realizing what you have just said, smirking, (a rare occurrence, even in sarcasm or triumph) and _falling right into your trap. He still thinks that you’re an idiot!_

“I choose your option two.”

“GOOD CHO1C3.” Bad choice, stupid. (Try getting over yourself.) You stand up and he strides right over, giving Rosebot a hand up, because that is not Rose. She still needs to be revived. It’s moderately high on your list. In any case, he unties the caricature of her- and falls back as you flashstep in front of her, pull her head wide open, and grab a fist of her wires. You grin your trademark grin and smell his anger as he comes at you with a sword, forgoing his persona for the sake of his playing card, and your scaly, muscled tail comes right for him holding your other sword.

You stab him through the heart, as is proven by the gush of blood streaming from his chest and mouth and the meaty _schthwip_ of your sword sliding home. No Heroic or Just shows up over his body; you do not have much time.

“Am I free to go now?” Rose pipes up, hands clasped in front of her. “Or is there another layer to this master plan of yours that involves more death?”

“Y34H YOU C4N GO. JUST TRY TO UNFUCK YOURS3LF. YOU’R3 A PUPP3T 4ND TH3 SOON3R YOU R34LIZ3 TH4T TH3 B3TT3R.” She gives you the blank stare that she always gives you when you try to explain things to her: The little bitch has censored her brain. Does not compute. Et cetera. The sooner you’re free of his grasp the better.

You find a box and do a little slice-and-dice. Bone rends and skin slices neatly, arteries give one last gasp for their blood. It’s disgusting work, but very important to do. You suppose you’ve never had an aversion to guts and blood, whether it be cerulean or candy red. Then again, the blood on your hands is the tears that Justice shed when she set you on your path to avenge the people that the owners of that cerulean and red blood have wronged. You would probably have a much worse reaction if the blood of the innocent was smeared on your claws. Speaking of which,

The memories have calmed down for now, and you sit back against your chair after organizing the bits properly in the box so that it will take a long time for him to resurrect, but he’ll be physically okay. It doesn’t require an especially large box.

Manlet ass.

Alright, you’re done. You shove the box under the control panel where it will stay until you need him. See how he likes being pushed around for a change. The ever-continuing memories are put upon a backburner in your mind, which is not easy to do and requires a mental exercise you learned in schoolfeeding. “ROS3?” She’s not left the room. “ROS3, WH4T’S GO1NG ON.” What is she doing? Is she there because there’s no other reason to be anywhere else? Is she there because she wants to help? A headache grips you by the back of your neck and you ride it out, waving away the sounds of birds and the smell of wild strawberries.

“I thought I could help you, as you seem to have some kind of ulterior agenda.”

“R34L SH1T? D1D YOU F1GUR3 TH4T OUT W1TH YOUR GOD TI3R POW3RS OR D1D YOU LOOK R1GHT 1N FRONT OF YOU 4ND NOT1C3 TH3 OBV1OUS?” You are being unnecessarily bitter for no good goddamn reason.

“Yes, Terezi, I certainly was constantly scanning for changes in your definitely-not-erratic behavior as I was simultaneously babysitting Mr. Right over here.” She nudges the box. Damn, okay then.

“…TOUCH3.”

“Thought as much.”

You get your ass handed to you and back off, as you know when to. The box rattles against the chains you’ve graciously applied to it.

“So what are you going to do about that?”

“W4TCH 4ND L34RN.” You kick the box. Muffled commanding is coming out of it, before it falls silent. “OK4Y D1RK, 1’V3 OFF1C14LLY H4D 3NOUGH. YOU L13D TO M3 FOR Y34RS 4ND NOW TH3 SH1T H4S F1N4LLY P1L3D UP. W3 H4V3 SOM3 D3M4NDS.” You undo the box and Dirk springs out, katana at the ready, but you parry and in the same breath snag him with the chains. “4S D4RL1NG C4LL1OP3 WOULD S4Y: BLOODY H3LL, STR1D3R.” He makes no response. You wrap him up and sit him down. “YOU W1LL R3L1NQU1SH ROS3 FROM H3R ROBOT1C PR1SON. YOU W1LL UN-D3STROY A CHO1C3 F3W P3OPL3’S SOULS. YOU W1LL PAY FOR HURT1NG 4LL OF YOUR B3ST MOST B3LOV3D FR13NDS. YOU W1LL-“

“Or what?” He seems cool and collected, sanguinely calm. You tsk.

“D1RK, TH3R3 4R3 OTH3R P3OPL3 PURSU1NG YOU WHO 4R3 MUCH L3SS M3RC1FUL TH4N 1 4M. DO YOU W4NT TO B3 FULLY 3XPOS3ED TO TH3 WR4TH OF K4N4Y4? DO YOU KNOW WH4T SH3 D1D TO 3R1D4N, R3ST 1N P34C3?”

“…I’ve heard the tale, yes.” He tenses and you can smell the pervasive all-telling scent of fear under his façade.

“TH3N B3 H4PPY TH4T 1’M CONS1D3R1NG HOLD1NG H3R B4CK 4S SH3 COM3S 4T YOU W1TH A CH41NS4W.” Rose crosses her legs and taps one of her fingers on her cheek.

“You used to be filled with this…deep familial love for all of us. Even I can remember that. We were your best friends, the people you’d have died for. You ruined all that because…well, because you became like this, transformed into your capital-U-and-S Ultimate Self. Why?”

“You don’t **understand** , Rose. I did what I had to to make us relevant again! I had to save all of us.”

“Your savior complex disgusts me. What is the use of relevance if we are all in constant pain because of your betrayal?” She stands and begins pacing. “You need to make up for your actions and you need to start now.” You incline your head in agreement. Then, after a long pause…

“Okay. Fine. I’ll help you.” He looks so deflated without Rose helping him See, without you cooperating. It makes you wonder how he even roped you into this in the first place. You massage your forehead and pick him up, carrying him over your shoulder. It’s one hundred and eighty pounds of pure little bitch. “SHOW US TH3 W4Y TO ROS3’S BODY.”

After a long while of Dirk, a grown ass man, mumbling “Left” and “Right” and “Go straight” over and over again, you all reach a room lit eerily by turquoise lights. It’s absolutely strewn with medical equipment that has been awfully misused, and in the middle, there is a body, dark skin unhealthy-looking and tightly curled blonde hair unkempt. There’s IV fluid dripping to the floor, and Rose lies there, the symbol for Light superimposed above her head. Rosebot makes no emotional response. Dirk, however, sets his mouth in a line and, with some not so gentle prodding…

Fraymotif: Soul’s Last Stand

The telltale pink electricity rockets forth, taking hold of Rosebot and reversing the process that led to her unfortunate existence. The LEDs in her eyes fizzle out as their power source is removed, and the Soul, from what you can smell is shining yellow and dripping ink, flows nicely back into its original vessel. A long and aching pause follows this. Rose does not wake up and jump for joy, she does not throw her covers off and do a tap dance and a song number, but what she does do is start _breathing_ and you can smell her mind starting to reconnect its neurons. You nearly cry.

You are Rose Lalonde.

This feeling…like sleeping in the shower, the sound of your wife purring into your arms, the taste in your mouth like copper, so dry and so hungry. Suckers patterning your skin and road maps thrown out the window. You don’t know how long you were sleeping, but you still can’t move so you exhale and drift back off into the stars.

You are Terezi Pyrope.

You sit down on the metal floor, still holding Dirk unceremoniously.

“HOW COULD YOU RU1N H3R L1K3 TH4T?” He pretends not to hear you. You smack your tail on the ground, the feeling calming and nice after the events of today. Smack, smack, smack, sm-

“I did it because…because I had to save her from herself.” This bullshit again.

“ROS3 W4S H4PPY. SH3 W4S M4K1NG 4 F4M1LY. YOU R34LLY C4N’T LOOK P4ST YOUR FUCK1NG 3GO, OR YOU WOULD H4V3 NOT1C3D JOHN’S D3PR3SSION. YOU COULD H4V3 S33N J4N3’S 4NX13TY 4ND HOW PR3SSUR3D SH3 W4S. YOU COULD H4V3 S33N HOW J4K3 W4S COP1NG OR HOW LON3LY J4D3 W4S. YOU W3R3N’T TRY1NG TO PROT3CT 4NYON3. YOU JUST W4NT3D H3R POW3R 4ND M1N3.” He quiets and stops struggling. “YOU 4DM1T 1T.”

“I never- I- you’re right. I’m- I’m sorry.” You win. You win! It’s a meaningless victory.

Rose stirs. You get up faster than the speed of light and rush to her bedside.

“Terezi, what’s going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	3. Bro I'm Literally Crying Bro Please Bro......Bro Look At Them They're In Love I Can't Fucking Take It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *CRYING SOUNDS AS I WRITE THIS CHAPTER*

You are Rose Lalonde, and everything in the world is making you reel with confusion. You hardly remember laying down on this slab, so similar to the one you died on all those years ago, and the bright lights give you a headache like your knitting needles stabbing not into a ball of yarn, but into your brain. You can barely make out the head of Terezi standing above you, or is that two Terezis? Four? You barely choke out some words. You hardly comprehend what comes back. You try to See, and startle when that comes easy to your aching mind. 

A razor, high-heeled boots, a lion’s mane. The sound of a chainsaw revving and a loud DEBUNK, jade-tinted. Blood spraying your face. This is what you parse out before you pass out, again. Your head lolls on the sheets and you drift back into unconsciousness. 

You are Nepeta Leijon.   
.  
.  
.  
You are Terezi Pyrope.   
One of your best friends in the world has just been revived from the slumber, from the death, that was choking her for years.   
And yet, there she is again, alive but still recovering, yet still not with you yet. You sink back down, resting your elbows on the hospital sheets, and decide to get out of this depressing bastardization of a hospital. Resting a clawed hand over her forehead, you sigh and walk out of the room, dragging Dirk and the robot body along. He barely coughs in protest. 

You feel stronger, more vitalized, more you than ever before. Green light pulses in the corners of your smellovision, and your hands, topped with claws and scales and threads of muscle, tingle with power and prosperity. The Collective Mind, the Breeze for Mind players, welcomes you into its ranks not out of godhood, the easy way in, but out of simply surviving this long. You hear voices, all calculated yet diverse. Hello, Ultimate Terezi Pyrope. 

You do not feel emotionally better, however. You feel like processed shit. You drag him to his room and sit in his shitty chair and bide your time and think and think and think and think. Nepeta’s body. Nepeta’s body. Nepeta’s- YOU’VE GOT IT. HAHA!   
With this plan in mind, you sit little bitch on his ass, take a crunchy, bitter bite out of his potted succulent, and grin the first real grin you’ve grinned in ages. 

Things are finally falling into place for Terezi Pyrope. 

Not so for Rose Lalonde, who you currently are now.   
The headaches, not the ones you get after waking up from death nor the ones you get from seeing Terezi’s outfits, are starting again. Hopefully they’re on their way out; otherwise you may have to just…  
You cannot entertain the thought. You refuse and you will not. You are not going to be trapped again. Freedom is your new best metaphorical friend now as far as you’re concerned. You will get stronger, See your timelines, regain your energy. And Ultimate Rose shall rise to rival the strength and power and love you have let slip away. The power is in the doing, and you are no passive sick little lady, waiting to be revitalized. 

You sit up. You rip out your IV. Your feet introduce themselves to the floor, but you’re not stupid. You know that you are weak from being dead. See, death, for a god, is like going to sleep for a little while. There is no real death, especially after living this long in a divine state. Which lets your mind wander to the elephant in the room: Ultimate doesn’t have to be a swear word. Dirk let it consume his Heart, his very soul, and fizzled out as he met his end after three years of torturing your soul and Terezi. Ha ha, you chuckle to yourself. Terezi always gets the last laugh, as proven by what she just did. Damn those Pyropes!

You are Ultimate Terezi Pyrope, and you See Rose’s mind becoming active again, so, reveling in your newfound power, you head to the ward, Dirk in tow. She’s sitting up! Cool!  
And looking at you with glowing yellow eyes. Less cool.   
“Terezi…” There’s a newfound richer tenor to her voice, like the goddess she is. You mean, literal goddess. No time for kismesis hate-attraction, Terezi, mew’ve got a job to do! 

Huh? 

Getting back on topic, Rose requests a hand up and floats gently above the floorboards in her hospital gown. Realizing her embarrassing involuntary wardrobe and in an effort to hold her wife’s morals dear, golden threads wrap around her and the Seer of Light is back in business. Slippers, adorning her steps with freedom, golden leggings, wrapping her strength in finery, and the sunshine blouse, allowing her conductors of Light to well, shine forth. You so are not staring. In fact, you are not staring on purpose. Damn those Lalondes!  
You murmur something like “L3T’S 4LL GO TO TH3 B1TCH BOY ROOM” and skitter off, still holding the bitch boy in question. He appears to have tapped out, which is fine and dandy.

Once in the room, you sit down and finish your plant, while Rose looks on in sarcastic silence.   
“So, your plan? I assume you have one.”  
“R1GHT ON TH3 NOS3 TH3R3, L4LOND3. 1 DO NOT JUST H4V3 4 PL4N, 1 H4V3 4N 3L4BOR4T3 PL4N. OK4Y, R3M3MB3R TH3 3QU1PM3NT D1RK FORC3D US TO BR1NG 4LONG…?” As you explain the elaborate plan to her, the tiny smile on her tired face grows wider by just a tiny bit, little by little, until she’s full on smirking. What a rarity!

Approximately ten minutes later, you finally shut your goddamn mouth, teeth clacking against each other.   
“SO TH4T’S TH3 PL4N.”   
“I like it.” Rose has grabbed herself an orange juice, an Advil, and a reconstituted chili mac from the fridge, under Dirk’s desk, and the freezer, respectively. She appears to be monstrously ravenous, which is understandable, considering her body hasn’t had to use its own energy for three years. Speaking of food, you’re going to need to prepare a ton of it yourself. It’s all part of the elaborate plan. Dirk is tied to his chair with one arm free, you retrieve the ectobiology equipment from its storage room and you and Rose crack your knuckles dramatically, surrounded by microwaveable food. 

Let’s get down to business.

“D1RK, JUST ON3 L4ST TH1NG. W4K3 UP.” He stirs awake, grumbling.  
“Fucking fine. Just so that you know, this isn’t going to work.” As he talks, Rose is working the ecto machine and has produced a Nepeta-grub using some non-paradox slime, because there is no Nepeta, YET.   
“Okay, we have the components. Make your being, Terezi.”   
“R1GHT.” Dirk raises his hand, you focus your thinkpan, and pink lightning, green orbs of light, and a mixture of the two in the shape of a beautiful spirograph lights up the room.

Fraymotif: The Resonance of Heart and Mind.   
The soul and the mind combine to become one; the bodily components match the being, and suddenly there’s one whole adult Nepeta, from your timeline, your Nepeppy, your lioness, and you have tears in your eyes and you’re jumping up and hugging her so tight and crying and crying and crying and she smells just like how you remember, of dreambubbles and blood and olive brine. She murmurs sleepily, and your heart breaks all over again. You mush your face into her jacket, completely making a fool of yourself. 

You are Nepeta Leijon.   
After only just resigning to living out the rest of your mental life in the dreambubbles, consciousness aging until you lose your mind, suddenly your paws have touched ground and you’re being hugged so hard you’re almost being lifted up, which is weird because you are really buff, especially after your adult molt! You hug back, linking your arms together around the person you now recognize to be Terezi’s back, although she sure is a lot wider and taller than you remember her! It’s been so long since you’ve smelt candy and dragon scales. Her tears are soaking your hair and you start to cry a little yourself, but then you open your eyes and look around. What…is this place?

“Terezi? …Where are we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEPEPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> ALSO WE HAVE A SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6GSkCrMUlsdrcfNPiHM3UP?si=SkHfLu7OSfOnq0cJ3UedvA  
> (feel free to suggest songs!)


	4. Endless Worldbuilding Culminates In Endless Dialogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to talk.

You are Nepeta Leijon, and you’ve just landed in the middle of…is this a spaceship? Like the Galactic Armada? But…there is no more armada. No more Alternia. And the walls are decorated with the strangest posters…like Equius’ in the dreambubbles. Wait. Equius! Where is your moirail?

Then again…you don’t think you want to know where he is anyway, after what he said to you. After how he…

You bat the thought away. There is no time to dwell on that for now, it will only distract you and make you sad.

You are Nepeta Leijon, and you have just asked Terezi where you are, which remains a mystery as she is dumbstruck. You step away from her and take the whole thing in. All in all, it’s awfully tacky and gives you brainrot, and your feral cat brain wants to sink your claws into those body pillows. Scanning around, there’s a desk, Terezi, an ominous yellow figure with glowing eyes floating limply in the air, a couple empty plant pots… _wait, an ominous yellow figure??_

You snap your eyes over to it…and is that the one they call Rose?

You remember seeing other Roses in the dreambubbles, but you’ve never met the alpha Rose.

She lifts her head to look at you and tired purple eyes overlaid with yellow meet olive ones with tiny hearts. You look in curiosity, and Rose smiles and sticks out her hand.

“Lovely to meet you. I’m Rose, and that is Dirk, although he requires a major attitude adjustment.” She points over at a man tied up in a gamer chair, bedecked in magenta cape and garments. The symbol for Heart is nigh stamped on his slumped chest and your narrow your eyes in wondering and confusion.

“Nice to m33t mew, Rose.” You shake her hand heartily. Her palm is rough and dry, the ghost of skincare still clinging on to it, and ashy, like she hasn’t seen sunlight in a very long time. Her nails are long and unmanicured, and she smiles underneath a curtain of fluffy, tightly curled hair. Terezi is still gawking, and this must be embarrassing by now.

“It’s nice to meet you too. You must be hungry, why not sit down?” You notice loads and loads of human food, strewn across the floor. Now that it’s brought to your attention…your stomach gapes like it’s the maw of a horrorterror compressed into one nutrient sack. The hunger near overtakes you and you forgo manners and jump into the food headfirst, pouring things that you can hardly taste into your gaping maw. It’s a murderfest and your victims are microwave spaghetti and milk bread and a cup of juice and fried tofu and and and…

You finally come out of your daze, full. Terezi is belly laughing on the floor, and Dirk looks quite scandalized. Rose is draped on a table, passive and tired-looking, her head underneath her hands. You make a cute face, and Terezi laughs even harder. Food containers are scattered about, and there’s quite a mess. Not that you don’t enjoy messes, but it’s **everywhere.** You stack a few trays and call it good.

“So, Dragoness,” You look at Purr-ezi. “What _was_ your plan after this point, hm?” Terezi bluescreens.

You are (Ultimate, although who cares) Terezi Pyrope, and suddenly you feel a lot less put-together than you know you should be.

Quick, stop laughing! Quick, pick yourself up and scrub those teal blood vessels shut! Quick, more planning and quickly quickly quickly impress Nepeta for Gog’s sake. You sit up, rotating ninety degrees, and shut your mouth and stand up. Suddenly your long hair and green jacket look dumb and tacky, and you make a quick note for a wardrobe change amid the rest of the mildly gay detritus swirling around your thinkpan like the gold swirling around a miner’s similarly named pan.

“4LR1GHT 1 TH1NK W3 SHOULD CONV3N3 1N TH3 3NG1N3 ROOM.” This is a completely arbitrary decision on your part and you have no idea why you have just said that.

“H33 h33, nyalright.” Good, good. She doesn’t think you’re a complete futz. We can still do this, whispers one solitary Terezi-brain cell to another. You turn mechanically and march to the engine room, the smells of the decorations you put up massaging your tired thinkpan. You can hear her padding along beside you, the sweet heady smell of olives and fur downright tantalizing. Cherry red has a new contender.

You three (Rose accompanied you, too tired even to snark at you for being absolutely smitten) arrive in your domain, uncomfortable and reeking of gamer boy it may be.

“SO. N3P3T4. UH, DO YOU H4V3 4NY QU3ST1ONS? L1K3, 4BOUT YOUR POW3RS OR 4NYTHING? 1 D1DN’T R34LLY CONS1D3R WH3N YOU’D 4SC3ND TO YOUR ULT1M4T3 S3LF...” You twiddle your thumbs, feigning confidence and calmness. She tilts her head to the side, claw tapping her chin, and thinks a bit before answering.  
“I have nyo idea!” So carefree, so sweet… _snap out of it!_ You shake your head a bit before going “OK4Y” like a fool. She titters, and you think you’re ready to die.

“Actually…” You snap your head up.

“Will I get _any_ powers? Like, I completely get that evfurryone besides us, Karkitten and Kananya went god tier like Purr-(and here she rolls the r for a very long time)-rriska did, so I’m nyot expecting anything grrreat, buuuuut…” She bonks the tips of her fingers together and looks at you with kitty-cat eyes. You cough before going

“W3LL 1 H4V3 S33R POW3RS TO 4N 3XT3NT, SO 1 4SSUM3 W3 JUST DON’T G3T F4NCY OUTF1TS OR 1MMORT4L1TY WH1L3 ST1LL H4V1NG TH3 POW3RS TH4T W3 WOULD 4NYW4YS. 4ND TH3…BODY STUFF?”

“Body stuff?” She looks questioning, legs crossed in the lotus position. You cavort your hands around a bit, reaching both physically and metaphorically for words.

“TH1NGS L1K3…ROS3’S FR3CKL3S 4ND GLOW1NG 4ND TH1RD 3Y3.” Rose lifts her head at the mention of her name and says, “You can’t see them presently, as I have just died and come back to life.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense to me.” Nepeta says with an air of finality. Rose sighs and rolls over, still quite put out. You’ve got faith in her, though, maybe it’ll just take a bit of time. However, Nepeta’s mention of Kanaya makes you think…she’s probably the reason. They’re like two interlocking salt and pepper shakers; nothing is properly seasoned without both and they fit together like they’re meant to be together on the metaphorical kitchen table of the narrative forever, which of course Rose and Kanaya are.

You are Ultimate Rose Lalonde, and you don’t quite feel like being the narrator, so back to Terezi, it is.

You are Ultimate Terezi Pyrope.

Snapping out of your thoughtful daze, you stand and adjust your glasses again. God, you hate these clothes.

How about a solution to that problem?

“4LL R1GHT, COM3 ON L4D13S. 1T’S T1M3 FOR TH4T P3D4NT1C R1TU4L TH4T MUST B3 COMPL3T3D BY 3V3RY PS3UDO-WOM4N WORTH H3R S4LT.”

“Which is?” Rose drawls.

“TH3 3V3R-F34R3D M4K3OV3R.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack sorry for the long break!! Anyways can you tell I love cliffhangers heeheehohohoho  
> also we have a dedicated tea!!   
> https://www.adagio.com/signature_blend/blend.html?blend=164376


	5. Smeared Mascara and an Outdated Alchemeiter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nepeta and Terezi get into high fashion...and into the feels.

“4 M4K3OV3R.” As the words leave Terezi’s mouth, a grin slowly spreads across your face.

You are Nepeta Leijon, and despite your mysterious headaches you’re raring to go! It’s been so long since you’ve had a new look, even after discarding your hat and blue fake tail. No doubt Terezi has noticed, and you internally brace yourself for the impending questions, not knowing when they will come but expecting them nonetheless. Terezi doesn’t miss a thing. The experience with your former moirail still rings fresh in your heart, and boy does it still hurt. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to be rid of it.

However…new look, new you! This’ll definitely help you leave some of those bad memories behind. Terezi leads you down those uncanny twisting hallways until you get to a room, a glorified walk in closet really, full of clothes piled on the ground and makeup on shelves, as well as a mirror and an alchemeiter and related equipment. Funny. You had assumed they no longer worked after the game, and you’d apparently assumed wrong. Terezi starts rifling through clothes. You, on the other paw, notice a display of armor.

“Mmmm…Purrezi?”

“Y34H?” She turns around to face you.

“Can we take…anything…in here?”

“OH, TH3 4RMOR?” She grins widely. “GO CR4ZY GO STUP1D.” Well, then. You punch the glass display. Inside is mostly torso armor, rigid plates and chains, but in the very back…you pull out a segmented stomach piece, like a corset almost. It’s coppertone, in a fluted shape that creates a V downward towards the bottom of the piece. It has matching forearm gauntlets. You’re definitely in love, but the rest of your outfit doesn’t quite match. Terezi, on the other hand, is very attracted to a scalemail piece with a teal patina on it. She brutally rips it into a crop top that looks a lot like her old FLARP cosplay, going just low enough to expose her grubscars. Rose is off looking at a pile of robes, examining long flowing sleeves and beautiful velvets. Terezi gasps loudly. _Furs!_ Furs of every type, from a rough tufty cyan cloak to a wispy tan-to-umber scarf to a magenta boa. Terezi takes the cloak, scales on the original animal’s hide poking through the fur. She’s kept her pants with her sign on them, although she has modified the ankles into wispy threads swirling around her feet. Your eye is drawn towards the scarf, and you clip it around your head like a mane on top of a heavy magenta-striped long-sleeve top and non descript poofy pants. You find more of the same fabric to clip around and extend your tail, fluffifying it. More coppertone armor, this time in the form of leg and knee plates. You slide on slinky stirrup socks underneath it, the light armor surprisingly comfortable on your legs, which do not lack in muscle.

Now. Hair. It’s always been straight, shoulder length and pretty boring. You take a razor and undercut it, sweeping one side right off. The other side you comb with your fingers until it lays straight, turning your face and head into your sign. You draw the symbol for Heart over your eye and accept your alchemized necklace of your sign from darling Terezi.

There, you feel so much better! With a tiny bit more makeup to accentuate your sharp features you look exactly how you feel- powerful, cute, and very very human gay, a concept you learned about in the dreambubbles. You turn to Terezi and nearly die of just- well- _she’s so pretty!_

She’s turned the fur cape into a scaly teal cape with the alchemeiter, adding a necklace depicting a bloodraging teal eye with a spiral as a pupil, the iris being a…resin shaker. The scalemail crop top has not been altered, and she has fingerless gloves accentuating her long pointy wide fingernails, discolored black as they’ve always been. She takes the razor and shaves half of her hair off, not even bothering with a select style, and paints a strange symbol on her forehead, one you can only assume to be that of Mind.

You grab your claws and, using your impressive knowledge of alchemy, turn them longer, stronger, sharper, fuse them into your gloves. You add acrylics to your nails, curvy and sharp.

Now, you think, you’re finally done. Terezi faces you, and you look into her eyes. The tension is obvious.

“W3LL, YOU SM3LL GOOD, W41T NO-“ She blushes teal, cupping her face in her hand and mumbling about damn mouths saying dumb shit. “YOU LOOK GOOD, YOU M4D3 GOOD CHO1C3S 1N CLOTH3S.” Now it’s your turn to laugh. You chuckle, a bit at the foot in her mouth but also out of nervousness because every neuron in your brain is screaming about how wonderful she looks.

“Y-you too! I really love the crop top.” She smiles, the squint lifting from her eyes. Wow…it’s like she’s made from gemstones! You have to make sure you’re not staring and getting nervous because she can smell it on you. Wait. Are those…you slowly look down at her feet.

Platform.

Bright red.

High heeled.

Racing stripe.

_Crocs??_ With _Jibbitz??_ You don’t think you’ve ever seen a more perfect shoe in your life. These heavenly Crocs…they’re the only shoes you’d ever consider wearing! Rose fades into the background as all you can focus on is the most majestic footwear ever. You can barely snap out of your shoe-induced daze. Terezi is looking at you, confused, and poor Rose has been completely ignored in your long monologue.

“Terezi…those are the most perfect shoes I’ve ever seen in my life!” She startles, surprised. “1’V3 WORN TH1S K1ND OF SHO3 MY 3NT1R3 L1F3! YOU’V3 D3F1N1T3LY S33N TH3S3 B3FOR3 SO WH4T’S TH3 B1G D34L?” You squint in confusion. “I guess, I’ve never noticed them? I was just too busy with evfurryone else.” AKA, Equius.

“YOU M34N 3QU1US.” Shit! Damned Mind players and their insightfulness.

“Yeah, I do…” You suddenly feel a wave of shame come over you. How could you have treated them that way? He was right in the end. Despite your armor and your lion’s mane, you really are just some lowly…filthy…

Lowblood. Memories come bubbling up. “ _LOWBLOOD! YOU LET ME DIE. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” “How could you do this to us? You were supposed to save us, be our troll Robin Hood. You failed us.”_ Tears bubble up out of your eyes. “Tere..zi…I’m so s-sorrrrrry!” She looks quite taken aback. Rose is frozen, unsure.

“N3P3T4, WH4T H4PP3N3D?” Her voice is low, tender even, and you know you can answer her truthfully.

“Evfurryone…just g-ganged up on me in the dreambubbles! They said it was all my fault they died…even- even Equihiss! I couldn’t prote-ect hiimm…” You’re full-on sobbing now, and Terezi holds you up with a strong hug.

“1T W4SN’T YOUR F4ULT! 1T W4S TH4T D4MN PUPP3T, PL4Y1NG 3QU1US 4ND G4MZ33 ON STR1NGS! DON’T CRY, N3P3T4, 1T W4S NOBODY’S F4ULT. NOBODY W4S GU1LTY 4ND NOBODY W4S 1NNOC3NT, M3 1NCLUD3D! BUT 1T’S OV3R NOW, 1T’S OV3R!” Her scratchy voice pierces right down to your Heart, and you cry and cry before finally stopping, chest heaving.

You glomp onto her, grateful.

“T-terezi! Thank you…” She hugs you back, smelling like instant noodles.

You think you really really like her…but she can’t possibly feel the same way.

You are Terezi Pyrope, and you’ve just tenderly comforted one of your best friends in the whole universe. Sitting on the floor of Dirk’s walk-in closet. Hurtling through space. The situation is absurd, yet…

So natural, like you’ve been living with Nepeta and comforting Nepeta and loving Nepeta every damn day for your whole life. Your face burns teal, and you hate to admit it but…

You think you really, _really_ like her. But she can’t possibly feel the same way.

.

.

.

You are Rose Lalonde, and you relax in your brand new outfit and leave the gayasses to their cavorting about, a smug smirk on your face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not crying; nay, it is you who is crying. 
> 
> We are all Rose in this situation.


	6. Intermission: Blood, Coagulated and Anticipated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanaya broods, eats some frozen meat with her friends. 
> 
> CW for zalgo text at the very end
> 
> (translation: we know what's best for you...)

You are Kanaya Maryam.

Loneliness weighs on your shoulders, glowing again after you just lost the energy to keep yourself looking normal. You had to become your own Light, in a way. You stare out into space, the vast ocean of life and beauty staring back. As its Sylph, it will always be your duty to heal using Space, and heal Space itself. You can think of no better way then to defeat the man holding your beloved wife hostage and take the narrative from the awful caricature of the Callie you love holding again hostage the Jade you also love. You groan and put your head in your hands.

Fucked up, it is.

_Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap._

The door creaks open, and from the sharp tapping of the shoes you know it’s Eridan. He sits down next to you, sliding over a glass of…violet blood. You take it gratefully.

Ever since he was revived, before Jane…left, he’s been nothing but apologetic towards you and Karkat, and Roxy even reveals to you that they caught the two trolls “mackin on each other” (their words) one day. You find it apt and frankly adorable.

His fins are drooping and you rest your hand on his shoulder.

“Missing Someone As Well?”

He jumps, going surprisingly high, still scared. Who wouldn’t be, really? But for now you’re a rose dethorned. You couldn’t bring yourself to even squeeze Dave’s shoulder. Not even to drink from June. You sip the blood, dribbling a bit on your chin even as your tongue dips down to lick it off. His tail flops on his foot and you pat it with yours in yet another attempt to get him to say something.

“…”

“Wwhy can’t I get rid of her…” You sigh and suck your teeth.

“Well, Just As Long As We’re Both Gay Brooding We May As Well Vent About It To Each Other.” His face, long and heart-shaped, twists a bit, reacting to the violet tears upon it. They never feel good, especially with the sense of shame that comes along with them.

“Feferi Was Not A Good Person. You Can’t Get Rid Of Her Because She Seemed Like She Was. You Saw What She Told Nepeta In The…Bubbles.”

“Wwell _I know that._ It’s just that, wwell, even wwith the doctor’s help back on Earth, I can’t get it out of my head. I’m no genocidal maniac! I’m not! But she said I _wwas_ and encouraged those behaviors in such a tiny me.”

“Ah, Yes. Smallidan.” He looks at you, annoyed. “What? It Is An Adorable Nickname For A Very Young Misguided Boy.” He sighs and slaps his tail on the ground.

“I suppose you’re right…the best revvenge is letting go and living wwell, I guess.”

“Mmmmm.” You hum in agreement.

“Noww it’s your turn. I know you smarmy Sylph types hate talking about your feelings but it’s only fair.” He hmphs, that classic Eridan acid working in a beneficial way. You say good for him.

“Fine. I Am Always So Full Of Endless Rage That I Have Nearly No Chance Of Letting Go Because I Can _Feel Her, Eridan. She’s Still Alive.”_ He looks taken aback for a bit, then relaxes.

“Yeah, I get wwhat you mean…I promise I’ll help you to find her. It’s the least I can do.” You smile, feeling like a tired old lady.

“Thank You, Eridan. Hug?” He nods, and you two hug it out. You pull away, down your blood, and exit the room, feeling just a bit better. You bump into Gamzee, who’s clearly after Eridan. He gives you a little wave and brushes past, footsteps so light for someone so heavy. You pass the bedrooms and stride into the kitchen, flats softly padding along the lineoleum. You have to keep your momentum or else you won’t be able to do anything, so you aggressively swing open the fridge. Roxy, Dave, Jade, June, and Karkat in the background go unnoticed by you as you stare down the peanut butter cups. You haven’t been…eating right, and you plan to change that.

_CHOMP!_

_SNARF!_

_NOM!_

_SLURP!_

Satisfied, and with a lot less raw meat left in the freezer, you finally turn around to see the rest of your family staring at you.

“Kan…” Roxy looks shellshocked.

“KANAYA OH MY GOG??” Karkat looks legitimately scared.

Dave is recording.

June is wordless.

“What? I Am Very Sorry For My Absence But I Had A Great Hunger And I Wanted To Eat Something.”

“Well, _clearly!”_ Roxy breaks into laughter and the rest of them follow along, Karkat’s raspy guffaw mixed with June’s high-pitched chuckle and Dave’s hearty yet pronounced “pff-ha-ha-ha!” You flush, embarrassed, but then you realize the absurdness of the situation and chance a laugh as well. Jade…is silent. She’s slowly rotating, eyes like TV static. Even the sick caricature of Callie, an insult to the angel who’s probably still sleeping in Roxy’s, theirs, Davepeta’s, and Tavros’ shared room, is silent. Whatever. Fuck her.

You go to sit down with the gang just as Gamzee and Eridan come on out. Roxy dramatically recants the tail to the two of them, keeping their voice down for Gamzee’s sake, and they look at you, look at the fridge, and break out laughing as well.

It feels good, just being with your friends again. To laugh and make jokes and play-fight and talk smack…just like how it was before this whole mess started. Yet…

Your heart still aches for your Rose. But you know that someday, somehow, you will find her. And set her captor’s blood free into the abyss.

**_why yes, Kanaya, keep your rage. Listen to us, dearheart…_ ** _̯͈̰_

**_ẃ̴̡̡̞̭̦̥̖̑̈́͜͝e̵̢̺̤̜̻̬̜̠̐̆̌̈̃͝ ̷̨̢̯̥͉͔̪̺͚̰̻͕͕͖͋̽̂͑͑͐̌̆̀̓̓̎k̸̨̨̜͉̙̭̭͖͉̩͍͙̣͉̮̎̂̆̂̃̃͐͌̌́̓͛͋͝͝ņ̴̨̨̩͚̹̬̹̮̯̟̳̳̹̫̀͊̔͜ö̷̢̜̬̙̫͓̫͈̗̬̘̞̳̭̰́̔̈́w̷̯̙̩̻͖̰̑̂̌͊̄͋̍̈́̉̈̚͠ ̷̧̡̘̠̳͎̙͇̼͈̥̞͂̊̄͌͘͝w̵̧̭̥̩̞̞͙̖͗̃͛ḧ̸̩͇̖̫̞̯̻̺̀̈͗̌̐̃̑̈́̕a̵̡̼̠̐̿̕͘t̵̜̬͖͉̜̹̰̓̆͑̍̅͋̌̈́̍͐̏̋̔͆'̵̥̰̩̪̼̝̙͉͍̩͓̗̲̪̮̣͑͛̋̏̋̒̊͝ͅş̴̡̛͓̼͓͖̺̥̬͔̜̗͐̈́̈̊̏́̋̔̓̐̈̏͜͝ͅ ̷̢̠̞̽̈̓̍̅̓͗̉̿͘͜͝b̴̡͕̼̣̼̪̲̹̞͗̄͘͘͜ͅͅë̵̢̛̛̛̠̂̑̈́̇́͒̈́̒͗̆͌̕ş̵̡̙̦͕̖̗̱͓̰̐̆̊̓̊̎t̸̡͖̣̼̘͎͗ ̴̨̧̙͍̫̖̥̳̖̠̙͎͔̮̰̆̐̎̀́̒̄͂͋͜͜͠͝f̴̧̡̛̩̠̳̪͎͎̥̘̙̳̙̐̊́̊̈́̈́͂̔̈́̅̂͐̓̎́͜͝o̷̢̡̼̤̤̮͖͖̥͙͉͙͈̝̱̎̉͛̂̊͘ͅr̸̢̧̛̝͔̹̫̰̦̲̲̹͉͐̇̿̏̒̈́͠͝ ̵̧̣̭̳͎̹͖̊̓̉́͒̾͂̑͘y̶̘̟͙̱͎͍̪͎͉͈̒͒̾̅̀̍͐͛̚͝ơ̷̛̥̫̬͊̌̍̇͐ũ̸̡͔͔̯̙͈̺̣̰͇͇̣̣̈́̆͗̆ͅ.̶̖͚̟̹̘̹̖̲̪̞̞̻̖͇͓͒̅̅͆̆̆̔̄͆̔͗͝.̸̧̡͓͍̙̳̹̭͗͂̿̀̇̅͋̑͌͘͘.̶͈͔͎̺̯͈̰͚͇̾̅̏̒̊̆̍̽̏͛͊̔̃͌̒̄̕_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's mega short, but I promise the next one will be twice as long as usual!


	7. Unimaginable Emotional Painfest (with The Gays!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does what it says on the title.

You are the only Rose Lalonde.

As those two green-hued fools dance around each other in the most impressive display of repression you’ve ever seen in your entire life, you sit back in the airy velvets and linens you’ve procured for yourself. You look like the sun, the beautiful yellow starry sun, not the Green Sun, not the deadly Alternian sun, but just…Earth’s nostalgic sun. It’s a good look on you. After so many years, your skincare routine still blares in your mind, demanding to be completed.

Who are you to refuse your skin?

Eugh, look at all those poor layers of dead cells. You scratch at your arm, unsure if you should leave them alone or if it’s safe. Who knows, they could do something dangerous, like a Freudian slip or… _the horror…_ a trip-and-fall-on-each-other! This ship is like living in an anime, and you are all subjected to each and every horrifying trope.

Ah, fuck it, they’re adults. What can they possibly do but fall more in hopeless love?

You quietly sweep out of the room, your flats barely skimming the ground and your scarves and silks sweeping the cold steel. Splotches of blood patina the walls and carpeting, and you even think you see a chunk of viscera.

You’re so tired.

So very tired.

Your arms are loose in their sockets and your mouth hardly dares to move into different shapes.

But you will continue to stay alive.

For her.

Because the only singular truth in this inner world of yours, the anchor of your warped, half-glitched brain, is that you love her. You love Kanaya Maryam so much and you love your future child so much that you will keep yourself alive for them, and you will try your fucking hardest.

And you will never use St. Ives Apricot Scrub for your skin. Ever.

So be it. Manifesto over.

You barge into the bathroom and finally, finally unpack your toiletries. Scrubs for various areas. Chapstick in way too many formulas. Moisturizers numbers one through three. Toners numbers one through…seven. Soap. Another soap. Liquid soap. What the fuck were you thinking, going to Earth C Lush and spending the family fortune?

Well, you think to yourself, turning on the shower. Can’t be a proper goddess without smelling like one.

One intense scrubbing/cleaning/shampoo-and-conditioning/curl creaming/moisturizing/toning later, you finally resemble an alive person. Your skin is back to its deep umber hue with the departure of the unhealthy pallor it once had, your hair is redyed blonde, and you have gone to the trouble of makeup. Mostly to just complete everything.

Black gloss, golden highlighter. Purple eyeshadow.

Then…undershirt, blouse, belt, scarf, cape, skirt, leggings, slippers.

There, that’s one whole Rose! You still miss your beautiful wife. You think that you would look even better in these duds with your amazing wife in equally amazing duds. You are a little bit delirious. And dizzy. You think you need water.

You shakily float to the kitchen and pour the wobbliest glass of water ever. Dehydration is a bitch, especially when your mouth hasn’t felt water in years and makes your brain think you haven’t drunk water in twice that time. IVs and catheters also are bitches. You think that you will never be in a hospital again ever, not if you can help it. And you hope you will never have to be. You drain the glass, then you drain another, and another. Water, however, you think you’ll keep.

Kanaya…

You remember quenching your thirst in a similar manner after a long day of gardening, in which you turned on the hose and went to town, turning it on her in minutes. This devolved into a well-deserved water fight, and then the both of you just had fun for the rest of the day. At home. Together.

You start to cry. Sobs suddenly shake your body, reverberating through the counter. You feel like the loneliest woman in the universe, barring Nepeta and Terezi, although the point stands that one can be alone together. So you are alone. With other people. So, so lonely you think you’ll scream, so you do. You also: pound the granite tabletop, collapse on the ground, and become disappointed with yourself. You push the narrative away and settle on your side.

You are Dirk Strider.

After a day of near-continuous humiliation, you just don’t have it in you to do anything other than bitch, moan, and do some deep introspection.

Is this how they felt?

So chained up, like your skin is being taped to your sides? Shackled, wallowing in loneliness? Hopeless?

How could you do this?

How could you, Dirk? Your mind has been infected with power and your own inability to manage your emotions and deal with them like the adult you claim to be. You deny it, but deep down is thirteen-year-old Dirk, learning to build both robots and friendships, the most innocent you’ve ever been. Thirteen Dirk was a good person who was trying his best. Sixteen Dirk was a good person who had made his mistakes, but who was also still trying his best.

You continued on this path, you kept trying to be good, a hero like your Bro, when something went wrong. What went wrong?

Do you feel bad? Do you? Have you drummed up your last crumb of remorse-

Stop. Please. I get it. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know! Okay? So just-

Leave me alone!

You shove the narrative off of you, figuratively throwing it to the side.

You are Ultimate Terezi Pyrope.

Crap, crap, stop blushing-

You take a deep breath and gently set Nepeta down in the greatest show of self-restraint since Kanaya managed _not_ to destroy Vriska. Now that was impressive. While her restraint stemmed from rage, yours stems from being a gayass. You back up against the closet door and tumble out as it gives in, breaking under the extra weight you’re still not used to. You skid tail-over-horns for about five feet and hit your head on the wall. Nepeta gives an “mrrrp!” of surprise and goes to help you up. Your poor mortal soul leaves your body at the sound, which is why you only notice in your peripherals when her knees buckle and she sinks to the ground, clutching her head.

Your brain lags, confused, and tired.

A few seconds pass.

WAIT-

You jump up to your feet, absolutely terrified! These must be her memories coming through, perhaps all at once? You have no idea!

You do, however, know that if you don’t help her, she’ll die.

“N3P3T4, N3P3T4!” You try to ground her by placing your hand on her shoulder, but she’s yowling in pain at this point. What can you possibly do??

_Open your Mind, Terezi Pyrope. Open your Mind._

The Collective speaks to you, and you take a deep, deep breath and search for the possibilities. Threads like strings of webbing shoot out, reeling in the options. You can…ignore her. She dies. You can try to jostle her. She dies. You can take her to the medical ward. She remains in a coma for the rest of her life, and then she dies.

Clearly, you think, this isn’t quite time for mundane solutions. You’re a player of Mind, her Mind is in pain.

You visualize her _not_ being in pain, of everything being peaceful again. Like searching with a computerized search engine, you input this thought into your power, stretching the strings out until they snag…

You know exactly what to do. You reach out and cradle her head in your claws, and will like nothing has ever willed before. Like how the Dolorosa willed herself to stay alive for her love, you are willing your love to stay alive. The culmination of what feels to you like every good feeling, every happy thought or passing cheeky glance, in the world nigh _zooms_ out of you, teal energy screaming out of your forehead. It connects, the little veins all over Nepeta’s face glowing for a split second (the thought and sight make you sick; bile bubbles in your throat.), and…

Purchase. She goes limp, shooting an arrow of fear through you, and your mind goes dark. You start to panic, you’ve killed her again, her dead body is in your arms, she’s never coming back, you’re a sham, all for nothing-

She gives a great heave. Her bloodpusher starts pushing again. My gog, you think to yourself. This is the second time in as many days that a person you care about has come back from death and you’ve had a cow about it. You sit back, completely tuckered out, chest heaving and cold fear still gripping your chest. Adrenaline still heats your arteries and you’ve got all kinds of stress based aches and pains. Have you given yourself a stress-based autoimmune disease? Maybe So.

You lay her head on your ample tummy and sigh. Oh, Tewepi Pipes, what has this world given to you?

You do not remember falling asleep, but it doesn’t matter because

You are Rose Lalonde.

You are still splayed on the kitchen floor, but you feel better now. This is a statement you make to yourself:

I, Rose Lalonde, feel better now.

It has not worked. You feel like blended hummus.

You get up anyway.

After eating a solid bite of various delicious snacks, you feel at least full, which is good. Your ballet slippers grip the ground once more. You feel so so sore for no good reason and your bones feel like they’re just those metal rods with the threads spiraling down them. One step, and then the other…

Your sobriety makes your awful headache seem like a mockery like _you didn’t even have to do anything to feel this awful!_ You imagine soft hands and long nails holding you, gentle rain on the window of your house…and the yearning makes you stronger. This, you think, is lesbiancore. The absurdity of the thought makes you chuckle, a low, pained sound absolutely scrubbed of humor. Ah yes, lesbiancore. The aesthetic by and for lesbians. You should box it up and sell it, no?

You miss the great yellow sun and the gorgeous green grass. You will never be ungrateful for anything ever again. Even the sting of a mosquito is now beautiful, for how can such a tiny tiny insect be so alive?

My god, you’ve become a loon.

And what about your friends? What of Jade, the one who always made you laugh, or June, who was so brave in overcoming her shortcomings? What of Jane, who would always cook for you, or Jake, who would listen with you and talk for hours and hours? What of Roxy, your beloved mother figure who was always so lively and wonderful? What of Dirk, well, old Dirk, who was your unfortunate target of all of your sass and you, his? And Dave, your little brother, distraught and yet still fighting? What of Karkat, your sickle teacher, and knitting protégé? And dear, sweet Callie, your baking partner? These people were all so important to you that it makes your heart seize up like badly made caramel to lose them, whether it be for a short time or forever. You sit down and pick up a pen, eyeing the pale surface of the plastic composite table. You begin to write, words spilling out of your hand in natural cursive, turning into spirals, shapes, a single line.

_Once upon a time, there was a little girl. A little girl who wanted to play a game…_

Suddenly, the ship stops, a great and terrible shockwave going through it. The autopilot has stopped the ship, just in time for you to go flying and just nearly catch yourself, citing the will not to get more head trauma. Dirk groans from the other end of the room.

What could have caused the ship to-

_No fucking way. NO FUCKING WAY._

The bright green hull of another ship stares you down from the window. Terezi screams your name from the other room and everything, EVERYTHING is spinning and spinning and spinning and-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


End file.
